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“Lady Arabella is very experienced, herself,” her mother said, proudly.
“I would never dream of fencing a lady,” the Duke said. “It would be utterly improper.”
“Improper, Your Grace, or would your masculinity find itself challenged at the threat of losing to a lady?” Arabella asked.
The whole table went silent. Arabella turned her gaze downward, toward her plate to hide the smile that spread across her face. She speared a roasted carrot placing it into her mouth and chewing.
“I apologize, Your Grace,” her father stated stiffly. “My daughter speaks her mind quite frequently.”
“It’s quite all right, Your Grace,” the Duke of Longmire said. “Ladies who speak their mind are fascinating to me.”
Arabella shot a glance at her father. The thought that he found the Duke of Longmire to be her best match was quickly becoming an affront to her sensibilities.
* * *
Charles and Arthur had arrived at Lord Dunsmore’s townhome. After several days of silence, he’d sent word that he’d gathered more evidence of import.
“Gentlemen!” Lord Dunsmore said. He had several ledgers, open on the table. While Charles and Arthur were seated, Lord Dunsmore stood, pacing the room, as if he were a lecturer. “Here, before you, is the evidence that we needed. All of the gentlemen who have been murdered have made payments to our Mr. Bones.”
“How is it that you’re able to find things that the constable cannot?” Arthur asked.
“The constables are simple men. They do not know the ton. They cannot move amongst them to glean the information that I can.”
“Look here. There’s Mr. Bones, on every single ledger.” Lord Dunsmore pointed, while Charles and Arthur walked over to peer at them.
“There are the same brothels, as well,” Charles said.
“That’s hardly a surprise. Those are all on the same street as the Millgate Club, of which all of the victims were members. They get drunk, then stumble to the nearest establishment. Not much detecting there.”
“Mr. Bones,” Arthur remarked. “Who could that be?”
“I’m going to have to do a bit more detecting,” Lord Dunsmore mused. “Here is where I’ll need you—I am a member of the Stanhope Club, which is a rival to the Millgate. There’s no way that I can get in without considerable suspicion.”
“I can ask a favor of one of my clients,” Charles replied. He could ask the Duke of Tiverwell, who had come to his office to apologize for snapping at him.
“Who?”
“The Duke of Tiverwell,” he replied.
“Hmmm,” Lord Dunsmore mused. “That would be…yes. He would be very useful to us.”
“Perhaps, he even knows who Mr. Bones is,” Charles pointed out. “I’ve noticed that the Duke seems a bit…frightened of late. He, too, has been focused on his estate.”
“As if he’s gotten some sort of threat?” Lord Dunsmore asked, perking up.
“I know that to be true,” Charles said. “Over the summer.” He pulled the list of employees that Lady Arabella’s lady’s maid had made. “The Duke believed it to be one of his employees that he had wronged. Here is a list of those it may be.”
“He’s very similar to the others,” Arthur agreed. “A member of Millgate, high born.”
“I’ll go and visit him,” Charles offered. “See if he knows anything. If he has received more threats, then it might be a clue.”
